The material presented
here is not Al-Anon Conference Approved Literature. It is a method
to exchange
information, ideas, feelings, problems and solutions on a personal
level.
I used to race out of the house like a frantic sweep of complete disorganized thought. Shovel what little bit of toast I had left in my hand, and then make a mad dash towards the door. Back in those days the only thing that I really directed my attention towards was my time after Jr. High School. The majority of my waking hours I figured was already filled up with sneaky note passing, and any other self amusing things my thoughts could construct. I struggled to entertain my brain just long enough during school to keep myself conscious. One time I forgot to put deodorant on and figured, at least Ill have something to talk about. Ah, the good ole days. Friends all huddled together for another long day at the mill.
After school was so much fun! It seemed at the time the only thing that could keep me interested long enough were the girls, and their weird stares. Never mind that I remember thinking, Ive got to get to the pharmacy to catch up with my buddies baseball card collection. Soon after school I would usually find myself running back out of the house again still shoveling food as the door slammed behind me. Me and the 5 friends I had, all grew up on the same street together. We were all around the age of 5 when we met, and we are all still friends to this day. Back then we couldnt stop ourselves from trying to do outrageous things, just to do them. Sometimes we would stop ourselves and say, What the hell are we doing? But as you can guess, that just made us want to do it even more.
I still love to push myself, if not just to see how much my body can take before something gives in, or out. I used to think I was darn near unbreakable, till I took a step down the stairs at my folk house and heard a crack noise that didnt come from anything other then my ankle. I remembered saying to my dad I cant feel my leg. I wish I could have told that story well back then, but the fact of the matter was that the steps at my folks house were only two high. Ill never forget all the attention I got from that cast, it was almost unbearable. The notion of getting away from the signatures and the ole, what happened, droned on for what seemed like years. Like most lessons I have learned in my life, they only last as long as I can remember them.
It wasnt till I got into middle school that I got my first real good scare. Im not talking about little things like the usual getting grounded, or letting the cat outside. This experience was something that made me go into complete shock, and question what my life was all about. Just another way to see what I can do I thought, and that was always how it went, try it first and see what happens. Well, this day I wasnt so lucky. Some of my buddies and I had set a skateboard ramp up in front of my folks house on the grass to try and practice dropping in. Dropping in at the time was the term used when someone stands at the top of the skateboard ramp and drops down the ramp on the board. For the first time as a practice roll onto the grass, I felt scared, but fairly safe.I paused, and my buddie Shawn decided to give me a little push of encouragement. As I took a six foot dive straight onto what was almost going to be my face, I thought for a split second how much this is going to hurt my arm.
